The human mind

As sun started to peep through the small gaps in the thick canopy, Nishith woke up. Soon, the poking from stones beneath the leaf litter became more and more uncomfortable and he sat up, involuntarily pulling out the lamp from his sack.

He sleepily started to rub the lamp, oblivious of the big black ant struggling to find its way through the coarse locks of his wavy black hair. The genie soon emerged, yawning. He is annoyed at Nishith who keeps promising him eight hours of rest everyday but never seems to actually give him that. Even last night they sat together at the river bank late into the night. They sat there, looking at the sunset first, then at the moon and its clear reflection on rippled river water.

He is Nishith’s bread winner. And the trouble maker. Entertainer and the bringer of sadness. Nishith loves him for all that he is and all that he can be.

The genie took the form of a big black serpent, sneaking onto Nishith, and soon filling his thoughts with deep melancholy. “he is taking this form more frequently these days.” Thought Nishith as he started to walk towards his familiar sitting spot under the banyan tree.

The genie soon transformed into an owl, flying up and taking its spot on the top most branch, filling Nishith with thoughts of introspection. It’s a transformation he is all too familiar with. Ever since he realized that he is not the one in control of his all-powerful partner, Nishith started to observe the tendencies of his genie.

There was a time when he was so excited about the day to day life. He looked around at animals and felt in him the power they lacked. The genie in him is way more capable. The world he felt was at his feet. Now he doubts if that is the case.

Nishith felt on his feet, the silky puppy fur. He felt nostalgic about his former self. The world seemed to be a happier place, when he thought that he was the one in control. The genie took some ugly forms even then, but he believed he could avoid them with practice. The monkey was the one that most irritated him. Never seems to have the least of stability.

He heard the roar of the lion, looking at his field. That should suffice him for as long as he is alive at least. That’s a well-engineered field, self-sustaining and able to survive even the driest of seasons. Yet, he knows, he can never be so sure. What if the forest catches a fire, he thought, then laughed at his own improbable thought.

The hare started to run around, as he felt anxious of his own future. He realized his life can take any turn, and he can only be a spectator. He felt uncomfortable. “The only control you have over your genie is to take the precious lamp and shatter into pieces” he remembered his own dream of doing it.

He heard the sound of someone chewing bamboo leaves. It’s a panda. One of his most favorite forms. Why worry about the future when you are surrounded by bamboo trees? It seemed to tell him. A smile came on his face, as he wished the panda would stay a little longer.

“One day I would just be a shattered piece of lamp left on the ground and that’s fine. But till then I want to enjoy the show my genie has in store for me” he thought as he moved towards his field for his days work, singing the happiest of songs.